When the Barricades Arise
by emma.mg.9
Summary: Looking back, Combeferre realized he probably should've looked over Enjolras's plans and talked the golden leader into some sense before they went through with the his hair brained scheme, but he had other things on his mind... Here's the tale of how the barricades rose during the groups Uni days. Modern AU Rated T for police and Barricade violence.
1. So it Begins

**LOVELIES! Another Barricade day gift! The infamous Barricade story that I've mentioned in the Amber universe! This is the start! Hopefully by posting this I'll be motivated to update sooner! So I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment or review! Follow fav and HAPPY BARRICADE DAY!**

**Warning: So not sure if this is accurate... at all, but it's what i'm going with. **

**Disclaimer: Still no...**

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He'd done a lot of crazy things in his life, his social group practically forced him to risk his hide to keep the rest of them out of trouble, but that week was definitely one of the craziest. Looking back, Combeferre realized he probably should've looked over Enjolras's plans and talked the golden leader into some sense before they went through with the his hair brained scheme, but he had other things on his mind.

It was during their senior year of university that the school began to cut back its funding for minorities and scholarship students. They wouldn'tve known if members of their own group weren't directly affected in the cut backs.

_It was any normal night at the _Musain. _The group was lounging on the back couches when Éponine stormed in, a crumpled piece of paper in her hands, a distraught Feuilly lagging behind, and his face unusually pale. Storming past her boyfriend's concerned look and the confused looks of the rest of the group, she stalked over to Enjolras and slammed the paper on the table. _

_ Enjolras, who had been working dutifully up until this moment, looked up, startled and slightly peeved. _

_ "Ép, whatever it is, can it wait until I've finished this article?" He deadpanned, moving his gaze back to his laptop screen. _

_ Éponine, known for her slim to none patience, wouldn't take Enjolras's answer and slammed his laptop down so forcefully, Enjolras nearly squeaked at the thought of it cracking. _

_ "What the hell Ép? My life's stored on that!" _

_ "Yeah, well, I've found something for you to fight for." She seethed, fully gaining the attention of the entire group. Enjolras quirked an eyebrow at this, leaning forward he nodded at her to go on. _

_ "Our lovely university let at least forty-five percent of the scholarship students here know that based on financial cuts in the overall school budget, our money will either be sliced significantly or taken away all together. And since the university doesn't believe Feuilly and I qualify for their scholarship priorities anymore we've been given three weeks to come up with the tuition for the year or leave."_

_ The café was silent. Musichetta held her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. Grantaire drowned his bottle and let his head fall unceremoniously into his hands. Bahorel looked ready to kill, Joly worried, Bousset as well. Courfeyac was swearing to himself as tears collected in Jehan's eyes. Combeferre was fighting to keep his blood from boiling over while Enjolras's eyes swelled to new sizes, taking in everything Éponine had just told him. _

_ "You've been given three weeks to come up with over 10,000 euro?" _

_ Éponine nodded solemnly, anger radiating from every inch of her. _

_ "I've only got 10,000 to scratch up, Feuilly, a sophomore who's in a five year program has to scrounge up over 50,000." She spat. Feuilly nodded shakily, visibly calming when Bahorel came over to envelope him into a hug (something the fighter wasn't known often to do.) _

_ "They can't do that, that's not only highly ridiculous and unfair, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal." Bousset supplied, looking warily between the group, fearing what Éponine might do. _

_ "Yeah, well illegal or not, you should hear what the school is planning on doing." Éponine breathed, her eyes now slits. Combeferre rose, trying to wrap his arms around her to sooth her, but she waved him off. The group gasped, Joly and Jehan even squeaked, if Éponine wouldn't accept Combeferre's help, they knew she was beyond pissed. _

_ "Our grand university is planning to build a fourteen million euro athletic center for the health and well-being of all the student athletes who have been coming to the school in the last five years. No funding has been done, nor has there been any advertisements for anything, they simply acquired the money from a less important branch of the school and fed it to a far more 'needy' cause." She finished, her arms crossed tightly across her chest as she glared at Enjolras, daring him to come up with something. _

_ "They took your scholarship money to build a new gym?" He breathed, meeting her gaze, a new fire in his eyes. _

_ "But why'd they take your money? Why not the whole lot?" Courfeyac asked, already cracking his knuckles. _

_ Éponine spun around to answer him, but Feuilly beat her to it. _

_ "They apparently reviewed every scholarship student and their background and determined which students actually needed the money and which ones were, in lack of a better phrase, full of it and could pay for college themselves. The only students whose money remained were the students recruited by the university to better teams and the image of the school." _

_ The group was silent, watching their leader cautiously as he absorbed all the information he was given. _

_ "Apollo?" Grantaire whispered, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. The sun god let his head drop, before he slammed his hand on the table and rose, knocking his chair down in the process. _

_ "This kind of injustice can not stand! This institution should be encouraging all students to learn, not take away opportunities for students to better their education, then practically shove them out the door! No, this will not be taken lying down! What did Lemarque have to say about this?" _

_ Professor Lemarque was the oldest and most respected professor at the university. He was the biggest advocator for bringing education to all students and was also trying to persuade the board to eliminate tuition all together. _

_ "Enj, haven't you heard?" Joly asked quietly. "Professor Lemarque's been in the hospital for weeks now, his heart condition acted up again, the cold he had last month took him down hard." _

_ Enjolras processed this for a moment. Grantaire watched his god's internal battle; Enjolras adored Lemarque, the man was his inspiration to fight for justice and his guide in how to go about it. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he massaged the bridge of his nose before speaking. _

_ "Alright, we're going to lead a protest the school won't be able to ignore." His eyes were on fire with passion, and Combeferre should've noticed it right then and there, but he was distracted by Éponine's distress to calm his best friend down. _

_ "What can we do Enj?" Bahorel deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Every picket line we try to lead they laugh at us, how are we supposed to get their attention?" _

_ Enjolras looked Bahorel dead in the eye and told the group of his brilliant plan._

_ "We're going to build a barricade."_

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**And here it is! Hopefully there'll be more soon! Leave a comment/review follow/fav and until next time! **


	2. The Rally

**Hello Lovelies! Fast update right? I hope you're all enjoying the barricade story.. though I'd love to hear more thoughts about it, so please leave a comment or review :) It means a lot :) Quotes (and only in the case of the first paragraph where its recap) are in italics. **

**Anyhoo, here it goes! Chapter 2!**

**Warning: nothing too bad here! (that's a first ;) )**

**Disclaimer: I own only my ideas, the lyrics are Claude's and the Characters are Victor's **

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_Chapter 2: The Rally_

_Enjolras looked Bahorel dead in the eye and told the group of his brilliant plan._

_ "We're going to build a barricade." _

It was probably at this point that Combeferre should've stopped his friend. Gently led him to the countless history books that litter their flat and flip to the small insert on the student led uprising of 1832. An event that unfortunately Enjolras admired greatly. But Combeferre wasn't entirely focused on the woes and issues of the students at university this week, which was unfortunate, but it wasn't the court's fault for putting the deadlines for adoption papers the very same week. Alright, Combeferre took partial responsibility when the court gave him nearly three weeks to fill these papers out, but there were always something else, well _someone _else distracting him.

It was supposed to be a surprise, and it still would be these adoption papers would be the first step in a long battle for Éponine to finally have custody of her little brother.

He had been planning this for a very long time, ever since they rescued her from that hellhole they once called home. No sooner had they involved police and hospitals were the Thénardier children swarmed and split amongst the various foster programs around the area. Éponine was eighteen and therefore no longer a problem to the state. Azelma who was now approaching sixteen had been put with a fairly supportive family who made it their business to take care of young children and adults who had suffered in their young lives. He even approached Azelma on the subject and was quite surprised by her response.

_"Ferre, that's brilliant! Man, she snagged a good one in you!" The sixteen year old laughed jovially, smacking her thigh. He regarded her curiously. _

_ "Do you want me to work for you as well?" He asked quietly, once more sinking in confusion as her face settled slightly and began to shake side to side in a negative fashion. _

_ "I'm nearly sixteen Ferre, I'm two years from going off to school and being free myself, not that I haven't enjoyed it here, cause I have, but Gavroche, he's with you lot 95% of the time anyway. He's young and needs a real family. All he does is sleep here, and he doesn't understand why he can't just stay with you. Take him out of here Combeferre, he's not meant to grow up here." _

It was Azelma's blessing that brought him to the courthouse to get all the papers in line. And they would've been in and set if it weren't for the pamphlets and rallies he was now attending for the protest that was fast approaching.

The backroom of the café came to life with a new energy that had never been experienced in any other protest the student group Les Amis D'Abassie had ever had before. Each member set to their task with reckless abandon and most (expect Enjolras, Combeferre, and Joly who strived to continue class focus as well.) were spending more time in the backroom or spreading word than in classes. And when in class they continued to spread the word.

Everything was leading up to their pinnacle rally, the one they held right outside Professor Lemarque's home where he was still abed recovering from his most recent ailment.

The Professor was unarguably the most respected and revered on the campus and to Enjolras; he was the ultimate symbol for every cause he fought for, this new one on tuition and scholarship and education for all the most important for all. So where better to hold the rally on the eve of the protest than in front of Lemarque's home?

So there they were, all twelve of them (Gavroche, the five year old…, insisted on coming as well. "_Imma big boy Fwerre! I can fight too!"_) were there surrounding the thirteenth member and leader of their group, Enjolras, standing a top his soap box looking like an avenging angel. His blonde curls was clumsily pulled back into a pony tail with a blood red ribbon, his matching red jacket flew off his sides in a fierce _swoosh _when his fists struck the air.

_"We can not take this lying down! Everyone deserves to receive an education and shouldn't be taxed and tortured to death to fund this school's petty projects! Our Scholarship students work harder than any of us can even fathom! Why must we make them suffer!" _

The crowd responded with enthusiasm. Éponine stood next to Combeferre, shaking with fury and responding to Enjolras's battle cries with heated intensity. Clinging to one of her legs, but mimicking Enjolras's actions, little Gavroche wove a little red flag the leader himself had given him, pined to his chest was the tricolor his own chest supported as well. To his side Feuilly stood resolute, his arms crossed fiercely against his chest, looking dangerous, daring any to challenge him (of course 6'5'' Bahorel standing behind him, no such dare came forth.).

_"The next president of the school or the game changers of the next generation could be among these students, but the administration tosses them to the curb without a second glance. Do we stand for this? Turn the other cheek?" _

_ "NO!" _They hung on his every word, beat the air with him, followed him blindly, or so Grantaire believed any how, sitting at the back of the group, sitting on the stoop of the crate his Apollo stood upon, suckling his third bottle of the evening. Combeferre sighed at the sight. Grantaire did everything for Enjolras and despite his cynicism and lack of faith was his most devoted follower and the golden haired chief never gave the artist a second glance, if not for a scoff of disgust at the bottle glued to the cynic's lips. But Combeferre also smiled, for what Grantaire never saw (and he really shouldn't see either.), were the third glances, the stolen glances, Enjolras paid the artist and the small smiles that graced his features when Grantaire returned back to the café first, task complete and results positive. He hoped one day they'd both realize it, but that was a day Combeferre wasn't sure would come any time soon.

Combeferre turned his attention back to the leader as he approached the climax of his speech.

"_Do you stand for this?" _He cried.

"_NO!" _The crowd roared.

"_Then rise! Take your place with me! Here upon these stones of this university in the Shadow of Professor Lemarque's home we will build our barricade! Let's show them we're not a force to be ignored! Join us! Join our crusade to right the wrongs of so many! JOIN US!" _

There was silence at first at the question and solution Enjolras had just posed to the assembled, but soon the cries were overwhelming, the cheers and shouts of '_Fight!'_ heard in and around the crowd. It was then that Jehan took the stand and silence fell again. Taking a deep breath the little poet began to sing the school's anthem, but the lyrics were different, lyrics he'd written himself and taught to each member Amis over the last few days.

_"Do you hear the people sing? Singing the Songs of Angry men. It is the music of a people who will NOT be slaves again. When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drum. There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"_

But Les Amis weren't the only ones with the lyrics. Soon Jehan's poetry and Éponine literature and journalism classmates began, followed by Courfeyac's theater chums, then Joly and Combeferre's premed colleagues, Marius and Bahorel's prelaw counterparts, Bousset and Musichetta's business buds and Cosette's children's education peers. Finally (and most surprising to Enjolras), Grantaire's art major acquaintances. Nearly all the crowd had joined in for the second verse.

"_Will you join in our crusade, who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the Barricade is there a world you long to see? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!" _

Now Enjolras's voice boomed among them.

_"Do you hear the people singing the song of Angry Men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!" _

With the crowd riled and ready for a fight Enjolras gave the details of the protest location, what to bring, and how to be prepared as Combeferre and the others handed out the pamphlets echoing his instructions. This was also around the time campus security came to break up the disruption of the peace, which in turn, caused more disruption of the peace.

Though as the officers pushed the students back, all hurling insults, Enjolras's loud _"Vive Lamarque!" _high above the others, Combeferre caught sight of someone in the window. He squinted to realize it was Professor Lemarque himself. Through the dark little window Combeferre could just make out the Professor's sunken pale cheeks, but also his lips turned up in a small sad smile. He longed to know what he thought of all this, his face with so many emotions filtering across it. Pride, worry, and fear? The last one threw him off and an uneasy feeling for the upcoming days began to settle in the pit of Combeferre's stomach when he saw Lemarque make a small sigh of the cross and look up towards the heavens. Praying for his own health or the health of the students who so blindly fought for his cause, Combeferre was unsure, but it did leave him with one feeling. Fear of what this new day will bring. When the barricades would rise.


	3. To Follow Law

**Hello Lovelies! Fast update right? Here the barricade continues! PLEASE leave a review! I'm getting real sad at the lack of interest (or at least showed interest) in this story. I'd LOVE feedback! This one's short I know, but it's a nice little Javert side shot :) Enjoy!**

**Warning: Nothin really... just foreshadow **

**Disclaimer: Nope...**

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_Chapter 3: To follow Law_

"You want me to do what Sir?" Inspector Javert questioned, a pained expression now blossoming across his face as he sat opposite the President of one of Paris's most prestigious universities.

"You heard me Inspector," the rather stout man spoke with an air of superiority that frankly made Javert's blood begin to simmer. "I need you to infiltrate this student protest." The president waved a pamphlet across the desk to fall in front of his guest, his face twisted in disgust.

"We try to give these students good and look what they turn around and do!" He scoffs, pushing the pamphlet further from him as if it was a deadly specimen. Javert eyed the man and then the paper before lifting it to his own face.

The artwork was incredible, and the words and arguments were sound and spoke volumes of the passion of these students. The president did not need to tell him of the miscreants leading this. Les Amis they called themselves. Well, Javert had personally locked up several of these 'Amis' (granted only for a night.) on more than one occasion due to disruption of the peace and, for that one fellow, drunken misconduct. The leader, the one he was sure wrote these fiery words, he'd locked up several times, always amazed when one of his little followers was right behind him to post bail before he'd even turned the key, but it wasn't just the leader, even the drunk got this treatment. If there was anything he admired within this band of troublemakers, it was their fierce sense of loyalty and protection towards each other.

Javert regarded the pamphlet more, squinting to take in the words and the meaning behind this prophesized legendary protest. Frowning when reasons became clear, he looked back up to the President.

"Sir, they claim the school has taken scholarship money to fund other projects."

He met the man's beady eyes, black dots that held no trace of regret for the papers and actions that he signed off on, perhaps even suggested.

"Yes, your point being."

Javert frowned, rising to stare down at the beady eyed tub.

"Sir, this is taking money from a needier cause without actual cause and secrecy, this is technically illegal. These students,"

The president slammed his fat fist onto the desk.

"These students have no bloody right to protest on my grounds to protest my choices to better the future of this school. Now I am demanding you to infiltrate this pathetic excuse of a rally in the upcoming days and help us take it down from the inside to I make myself clear Inspector?"

Javert stepped back, appalled by the President's outburst. These were students, his students. Exercising their right and freedom to speech and protesting a matter that was technically illegal. Was Javert ready to defy the law to obey the laws and people he vowed to protect when he took the job at the force? A job that was now dragging him to the underbelly of the University he once studied at?

"Inspector Javert. This is not an option, it is a command. You will follow the laws of this school to protect it and you will help us crush that ruddy band of activists once and for all."

The President, who had risen in a furious rage, had now crumpled not only the pamphlet, but a school paper as well, once that displayed the group's most recent rally outside Lemarque's home. Javert shuddered to think of what the great professor would say were he allowed into this meeting.

Nevertheless, and Javert would regret this later in his life, he made a short bow to the president.

"Yes Sir."

"Good. I'm glad you understand the situation." He sat back down and took a long drag from his cigar, slowly blowing the smoke around the spacious office, though Javert felt smothered by the grey haze.

"How do you plan on putting them down Sir?" Javert questioned. "I can tell my men to be equipped with zip ties and perhaps a hose to take down any signs or stages?" This was how student protests were usually extinguished if they got out of hand. One blast of the hose and homemade posters and once confident students are washed away, the leaders zip tied to brought to a detention cell until one of their group comes to fish them out. But the expression that spread across the president's face still haunts Javert to this day.

"Oh no Inspector, those won't do anymore. I'll equip your men and the other officers I've called to take this group down. Hoses and zip ties won't cut it. No, we're going to make sure they stay down. We'll set an example Inspector." He leaned back and blew out another bout of smoke.

"An example sir?" Javert question, dreading the answer.

"Yes, one so powerful it will destroy the hope and fire of these student groups. We will put down these Les Amis D'Abassie once and for all."

He accented each word by crushing his cigar into the ashtray Javert flinched at every twist. He had no choice but to follow the President's orders, that was the law and the law was not mocked. But later that evening, as Javert walked back to the station he looked up to the stars above him and prayed to the quiet sentinels to guide not only him but the whole lot of them. Hell was sure in the days to come.

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**BUM BUM BAH! Aint the president a jerk? PLEASE leave a review or comment! I'd love to hear from you!**

**Until next time lovelies!**


	4. One Day More

**Lovelies! Where are you words of encouragement or thoughts? Would love a review! Here's the fourth chapter! Hope you like what i (kinda attempted) to do here :) **

**More to come soon! **

**Warning: language **

**Disclaimer: Nope**

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_Chapter 4: One Day More_

"Do we have everything? Courfeyrac do you have the posters and picket signs? Feuilly, Combeferre our time is running out! Have you confirmed with the others that we'll have the area around the Musain secured for our site? GRANTAIRE! PUT THAT BOTTLE DOWN!"

Enjolras finished with a huff, slamming his unoccupied fist onto the table and causing Bousset's soda to topple and spill onto the floor. Grantaire looked up from his (fifth) bottle and smiled slightly at his disheveled Apollo before him. The god's curls were all over the place, creating an even larger golden halo around his angelic face. His glorious marble chest was heaving up and down and the adorable vein in his neck that bulged whenever he was stressed (which was most all the time.) was defined against the marble white skin. His crystal blue eyes were glaciers as they glared at Grantaire and his drink, a glare so deadly, Grantaire (if sober and fearful of Apollo's glares (which he wasn't.)) sworn that even ice had the power to melt its pray.

Taking in every inch of his distressed angel and ignoring every warning sign, Grantaire simply took the final sip from his bottle and shrugged.

"I'd put it down Apollo if I knew the others would rise to help this cause, but I'm not sure even the scholarship kids would risk this."

"We fight for them! For everyone oppressed! Of course the people will rise to fight! You saw the rally, even if you were drunk." Enjolras seethed, moving to stand before the cynic.

"That was the heat of the moment Apollo, not the battle itself. Think about it, when we lose this we'll all be punished and where a paying customer might get suspended or reprimanded, the scholarship kids will be out on their ass. You'll hurt them before you help them Gabriel." Grantaire finished, earning the shocked expression of most others in the group; mostly for the tone of sobriety (and the massive point.) he had in his voice.

Enjolras however, nearly growled with fury at not only this massive flaw (one he refused to believe) being pointed out, but also his first name being used.

"None of that will be a problem because the students will rise Nicholas Grantaire!" Enjolras roared, not centimeters from the drunk's face.

"I wouldn't hold my breath Apollo." Grantaire whispered. Enjolras was ready to retort when little Gavroche burst into the room, Éponine struggling to follow.

"Everyone!" He cried, wiggling his way onto a tabletop. "Amis! I've got news! It's important!" He waved his arms frantically, but the buzz of conversation continued. It was a combination of Éponine and Courfeyac who silenced the group with simultaneous whistles.

All eyes fell onto the young boy.

"Professor Lemarque's had another attack, he's been moved to the hospital for an extended stay and the President's claimin the June 5th parade will be dedicated to him and therefore moved up three blocks!"

One could hear a pin drop in the room. Hours of planning the location and beginning of this grand barricade had fallen to shreds at this announcement, but Enjolras would not let this deter him. Raising his hand to drown the room in silence once more, Enjolras addressed his crowd.

"This is perfect! Lemarque's in the hospital, but the parade is for him! This honor is the sign we needed! The parade that celebrates students who rose against tyranny will honor his name as well, in front of Lemarque's house, in his name our barricade's will arise!"

Combeferre spoke up, nervous for this sudden change.

"Enj, we can't barricade Lemarque's house, that's dangerous and dishonorable to him."

Enjolras took this in slowly, realizing his dear friend was right. But the moment of panic was short lived when he remembered where the backup location was.

"The start will go as planned, seizing control and focus of the parade, but we won't come to the Musain to set up. We'll go to the Corinth. It's closer to Lemarque's house and it's on the new parade route! Off the fires of worry and confusion and grief we will kindle of flame! We have this Amis!" A cheer rose among the group.

It was probably there that Combeferre should have (once again) pulled his friend off the milk crate and once again lead him to the miniscule (really, someone should've written more about these students to warn future student protesters.) passage in his favorite text book on the failed student rebellion of 1832, the very one they would commemorate in the parade, but Combeferre was too wrapped up in his devotion to not only the cause, but also the protection of his best friends and love. Despite Grantaire's (very sober) points, Combeferre, like Enjolras, was dedicated to protecting those who were struggling, especially since it hit so close to home.

It was also this fierce devotion that brought the all feared Inspector Javert to the street corner in the early hours of June 5th, disguised as a homeless man (He had done his research in the group's previous causes and found that the homeless came up a lot.) and cursing his own devotion to his job. As he groaned to himself, he noticed a very familiar figure move through the crowd, one that nearly drove him to insanity, another curse to his devotion to his job.

It was a different devotion to the protection of his daughter and those close to her led Jean Valjean to the street corner in the dawn of June 5th. Cosette had met this Marius boy during High School and where he was originally concerned she was following him to university, he soon realized that 1) it was truly the best institution for the field she wished to pursue and 2) this Pontmercy boy was actually a very good man for his little girl (even if the boy was still scared shitless of him sometimes.) But hearing of this cause they fought for and those it affected, he knew he couldn't stand idle while these young people risked their safety for this cause. But he also knew who would be put in charge of snuffing out this rebellion. Though he had forgiven the man who chased him for a majority of his younger years, he knew what the man could do and he needed to protect these students.

Each person who would march and fight or observe this barricade looked onto the setting moon of June 4th and the rising sun of June 5th.

Enjolras sighed to himself. Tomorrow would be judgment day in the happiness of these students.

Javert grumbled on the harsh concrete tomorrow they would discover what God in heaven had in store.

Valjean prayed it would not be one more dawn for so many.

Combeferre worried within one day more.

What would the future hold? Would the people rise?

Grantaire could only pray.

**Watcha think? You likey? Would love a review :) **

**Until next time Lovelies! :D **


	5. The Troubles Begin

**Hello Lovelies! Happy (39 minutes early) Fourth of July! For all you Americans! and Happy late Canada day for all you Canadians :) Here's chapter 5 in the now longer than a one-three shot barricade story! (It's gonna be a shorter multi chapter fic i think..) and this was originally gonna be longer but the end kinda spoke as an end for the chapter for itself, and don't worry chapter 6 will (hopefully) come soon!**

**I hope you're all enjoying! Would love some more verbal enjoyment or comments so PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Warning: Language **

**Disclaimer: No... **

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_The Troubles Begin_

_Grantaire could only pray..._

The street was silent. Silent except for the uneven rumble of wooden wheels against broken cobblestones, beating out an irregular heartbeat among the group of spectators gathered at the street's edge. The carriage, a float commemorating the very funeral carriage the remembered students stormed pulled its way slowly down the road.

From one side of the street, Enjolras stood resolute, determination staining his face as he regarded the pathetic excuse (in his own humble opinion) of tribute. As the carriage approached him he found Marius and Courfeyac across from him in the crowd. With a simple nod, they set their plan into motion.

It began with Éponine clear mezzo voice shattering the somber silence of the morning, ringing with the rewritten anthem that was now their battle cry. Combeferre and Enjolras were quick to follow; their loud tenor sounds bouncing off the buildings surrounding them, practically smothering those silent with the sheer might of their passion.

Soon(much to the President's fury and Javert's shock), most of the crowd had joined the rabble-rousers in their anthem. When the majority had shifted to this disturbance of the peace, Enjolras took his cue.

_"Join in the fight that will give us the right to be FREE!"_

He shouted, loud enough for every eye to train to him as he stormed the middle of the parade route, waving his blood red banner across the cloudless blue sky like a bleeding wound.

The others took this cue as well and each fell into their formation in the parade route, waving university flags and French flags alike, crying "VIVE LEMARQUE! VIVE EDUCATION! VIVE LA FRANCE!"

Javert groaned as he stumbled to his feet, following the eager students as they rushed to follow their leader, who had now clambered on top of the mock funeral carriage, still waving his flag as if the powerful slap of the fabric against the air would destroy every injustice in his path.

He nearly tripped over one curly haired boy who'd stumbled to the pavement in a clumsy run backwards to not only continue his tease to the police who were fast advancing, but to watch out from where they were coming from. Grunting, he lifted the boy up with ease. The man flashed a (far too) cheery smile of thanks before someone else shouted,

"Courf! Come!" Then the words that still haunt Javert to this very day.

"TO THE BARRICADES!"

Enjolras and Combeferre led the group to the street corner in front of the Corinth wine shop. Bahorel jogged to the front, arms laden with chairs and desks from a 'donor' classroom. Courfeyac ran around like a frantic school boy, calling up to the students residents above, pleading for

"As much furniture as you can throw down!"

Éponine almost laughed a loud cowering under the Corinth's door frame, watching furniture fall from the sky like heavy sheets of rain. Though she let out a yelp of surprise when the (frankly beautiful) piano came crashing to the pavement, the ivories exploding off like shrapnel in several dangerous directions… the back of Bousset's head for instance.

In little less a half an hour the pinnacle image of all of Enjolras's dreams was finished and ready to serve and protect. It towered over the street, shadowing the no man's land in a dark cover of unease. Enjolras sprinted to the top, taking his red banner from Feuilly's patient grip and moving to mount it at the top of the structure.

"See them ignore this!" He cried, coaxing an eruption of cheer from his side of the massive pile of wood.

"What's our first move chief?" Jehan questioned excitedly, bouncing on foot to foot in anticipation.

The leader gave a moment of thought before nodding to the group.

"I need someone to keep an eye on the police for me! Someone unsuspecting!"

The group turned and scanned who they had amongst their ranks. None of the amis could go out for the police most probably already knew from the president of the school who to look out for. In all actuality, Enjolras didn't want to send any student out with the risk of getting caught looming over their heads.

It was then a rather unkempt homeless man stumbled to center stage. Raising his trembling hand, he offered his services to the group assembled.

"I was once a member of this force, I can find out the truth and know their ways. I was one of 'em in the days of my youth."

Javert didn't dare look up. He knew every face would recognize him, but he was bound by duty and law to keep hidden so he could attempt to snuff them from the inside out. He was still apprehensive about the words the President had given him before everything came about. If he could get these students to surrender early on, Javert was certain there would be no violence necessary.

Enjolras regarded the man for only a moment, frowning in thought before nodding.

"Be back soon and tell us what you find!" Enjolras called out the retreating form in the mild Parisian sun, the man's coat fluttering behind him as he disappeared around a corner.

As Combeferre watched the spy vanish in the cool Parisian dusk, an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he watched little Gavroche's face descend into a scowl.

"Everything aright Roche?"

The little boy took a moment to meet his eyes, and when he finally did the feeling began to churn slightly.

"I think so Fwerre. I just think I recognize him from somewheres."

Combeferre looked back to where the spy disappeared and back towards the boy, fearing of where he could've seen this man.

Jehan was technically in no man's land. Well, if one could call an alley behind the Corinth no man's land, than yes that's where he was. Enjolras had wanted him to scout out areas where the enemy could infiltrate. Courfeyac had pulled him aside an asked him to look for area's where they could safely escape incase things got out of hand. He should've been paying attention, instead of composing broody poetry in the dying sunlight of the dim alley. If he had been paying attention, he would've avoided the large grubby hand the clamped itself down on his mouth before he could even think of screaming.

"Trying to trespass eh?" A cruel voice slithered into Jehan's ear as some other vicious laughter poisoned the other. He frantically tried to shake his head negatively, but the crushing grip left for little movement.

"Take 'im back with us Sarge! That'll teach 'em!"

"Exactly my plan boys." The supposed Sarge smirked, jerking his head towards the 'boys' to come forward. Jehan had managed to wiggle his lips free from the massive paw before anything more could be done.

"Take me! What are you gonna do? Threaten me with rubber bullets? Is this the best you've got?" Jehan tried desperately to show no fear, but the crushing grip on his hands forced small diamonds of saline to form at the crevices of his fearful oceananic eyes.

What's worse was the malicious bark of laughter that shook the alley and caused ever hair on Jehan's small frame to rise.

"Rubber bullets? Hell, you're little revolutionaries will be _begging_ for rubber bullets once we've started."

Jehan heard himself audibly gasp and knew he only had moments to warn his friends of this looming threat.

Was the police force going to use actually weaponry, _lethal_ weaponry to put down this rebellion? Was the president willing to kill off some students in order to restore peace? Jehan wasn't ready to wait for a display, so in one final act of bravery, he opened his mouth and filled his lungs with air to scream.

Unfortunately for him, the boys knew this was coming…

The smaller of the two swiftly punched him in the gut, successfully knocking the wind out of him while the gangly one shoved a sickly sweet gag in his mouth. Forced to breath in the sugared silencer, Jehan's senses slipped away until he was finally engulfed in darkness.

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**OH NO JEHAN! Yup! I'm going a little brick on y'all! Hope this get's a review? Maybe? Would LOVE to hear from you!**

**Anyhoo... HAPPY FOURTH! and I'll see you guys soon!**

**until next time :) **


	6. Frighting DIscovery

**Lovelies! Look how fast I can be! Please leave your comments! A lot's happening! I would LOVE to hear from you! **

**Anyhoo, here's chapter 6!**

**Warning: A lot...**

**Disclaimer: Nope... **

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_Chapter 6: Frighting Discovery _

_Jehan's senses slipped away until he was finally engulfed in darkness._

It had been three hours since they sent the spy out and tensions were high. How hard was it to scout and bring back information. What's worse, it had also been three hours since anyone had seen Jehan. Needless to say Courfeyac was a wreck. Guilt washed over him in droves as he recalled supporting Enjolras in his order to send his little poet out to the alleys.

Combeferre tried to console his friend, tried to keep the center intact, but everyone could see as the center crumbled the confidence they once had behind this structure did as well. But it wasn't much longer that all attention was rapt once more.

"HE'S BACK!"

Bahorel boomed over the crowd gathered at the foot of the barricade. Enjolras's head whipped up and he rushed over to the crevice where the man was stumbling through, surprisingly in tact for a supposed homeless man who had just been running around Paris.

"Well? What have found?" He questioned impatiently, the gloom of a missing Jehan weighing on him as well.

"I've done as I said, counted all their men, they will attack when it's light. They want to starve you out before they start a proper fight. They'll concentrate their force and hit you from the right."

He pointed to a map Joly had spread out on the ground.

Everyone was quiet as they thought through the man's news. Well, until a small voice broke above the crowd.

"LIAR!" Gavroche had climbed on top of one of the chairs stuck haphazardly on the structure. Every eye swiveled from the boy to the man, who was beginning to inch away, though Feuilly and Bousset stopped him in his tracks.

"Gav what are you talking about?"

Éponine questioned, now eyeing the spy with scrutiny.

"You all fthink us little people can do nofin, but we're a bigger threat!" Several jaws dropped at the 6 year old's statement thus far.

"That's no spy! Good evening dear Inspector! I know 'im! It's Inspector Javert!"

As the words left the boy's lips, the newly revealed Inspector Javert broke into a run, only to be stopped by Bahorel and Feuilly who both clamped a hand around his arms.

"What are we doing with him chief?" Bahorel grunted, fighting to keep the famed police officer in check.

"Put him in the tavern, we'll have leverage." He instructed, but Javert insisted on the last word.

"You'll be put down! They're not messing around this time! Surrender now and none of your friends will be harmed."

Enjolras scowled and moved to walk away, but Javert, desperate to talk some sense into the boy who may very well be in critical condiditon should he continue, uttered the one piece of information he vowed not to share.

"They have one of yours. They took a man from an alley, claimed he was in their territory."

Enjolras froze, Courfeyac let out a short yelp, before clapping his hand over his mouth, shaking his head back and forth.

But the leader stood tall; turning his back to the traitor once more he uttered the same command.

"Lock him in the wine shop with Grantaire and Gav. We'll use him as leverage to get Jehan back."

As the doors slammed and the lock clicked to the Corinth doors, the unmistakable sound of hard heel on cobble clicked and clacked closer to the barricade.

"Everyone in position!" Enjolras called, signaling his men to their respected location on the structure.

"Who's there!" A voice called out. "We have one of yours! If you do not corporate, we will use force on him."

They all exchanged glances. But another voice broke through the descending night.

"FIGHT AMIS! VIVE LA REVOLUTION!" Jehan cried, his disembodied voice full of a new found passion. He was silenced by what sounded like a punch to the gut. Courfeyac shed tears.

"WHO'S THERE!" The voice called again. Enjolras hesitated, but he met Courfeyac's now teary eyes. The jokester gave a nod and Enjolras took a breath.

"FRENCH REVOLUTION!"

"FIRE!"

That feeling that Combeferre had in his gut? It increased tenfold at that command. Wood went whizzing by, the splintering sound tainting his ears. Could rubber bullets really cause that?

Éponine was scanning the barricade; making sure that her little brother was in no immediate danger, making sure her boyfriend wasn't do anything stupid and selfless to get himself hurt, and truly, making sure none of her boys were doing anything stupid and selfless to get themselves seriously injured. She wouldn't be able to handle any more hospitals for a while, not after the month long stay she underwent after her father and his gang left their last impression on her.

It was upon this scan that she noticed Marius. Oblivious Marius, standing tall in the biggest gap the structure had to offer and unaware of the closer officer pointing his slightly terrifying gun directly at his chest.

Any sane person would've yelled for him to get out of the way. In that moment, Éponine was not any sane person. Now she did not in any way love Marius any longer. For one, she loved Cosette _far _too much to pine over her boyfriend. For another she was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her current boyfriend Henri Combeferre. Not to mention she declared sed love only weeks ago under one of the bigger trees in the park by his apartment during one of their little escapes.

No, Éponine was not any sane person in this moment because one of her boys was in danger and she was going to protect them.

"Move your ass Marius!" She shouted, side checking him to the ground just as the gun cracked.

Marius let out a yell and as they both collided to the ground, Éponine thought that would be her only pain. Until the fire ignited, spreading through her shoulder and sizzling with a fierce avengence until she had no choice but to scream out in pain.

Marius, at first oblivious as to the reason why his best friend had pushed him let out an annoyed,

"Ponine? What the hell?" But as soon as she let out her horrific howl, he whipped around to see her writhing on the pavement, a rose blossoming from her right shoulder and a puddle forming beneath.

It was Marius who, when kneeling at his friend's side to attempt to help her, discovered the true intention of the police officers on the other side of the barricade.

The rest of them had heard the scream and all swiveled their heads around to find the source.

Soon, Marius's shouts of aid filled the once fire filled barricade.

"FERRE! JOLY! HELP! ÉPONINE'S BEEN SHOT!"

Combeferre almost collapsed. Only a strength born of sheer terror propelled him to the spot where Marius was crouched on the ground, cradling his precious Éponine.

"Oh God!" He cried, seizing her from the freckled man's arms and into his own, rocking her and whispering things into her hair as she flickered in and out of consciousness.

Joly arrived seconds after, shoving a shirt and towel into Combeferre's arms.

"Staunch the bleeding Ferre or else she'll bleed out! She's only been shot in the shoulder, she should be alright."

Combeferre nodded weekly, pressing the shirt hard to the wound, letting out a sob when the pain startled Éponine awake.

"Stop please Henri, it hurts." She whimpered, struggling (albeit weakly) to escape the grip.

"I know mon amour," he whispered back, sniffling loudly now. "But this'll help I promise. It's going to be ok."

The tears on his face were now mixing with the raindrops that began to fall in a light drizzle.

The others had surrounded the scene and many let out audible gasps. Enjolras was pale. He had never intended for any of his friends to be hurt and now Jehan had been captured and Éponine had been hit. What kind of a leader was he?

"I didn't know rubber bullets could do that much damage." Bahorel whispered, crouching to grab the only hand Combeferre had not wrapped into his own, rubbing small circles into his 'baby sister's' palm.

Marius was shaking his head slowly, earning confused looks from the others. But he didn't look for any other eye, just Enjolras. He needed the leader's attention as he let the anvil fall on the already crumbling fortress.

"Enj, what hit Ép wasn't a rubber bullet."

Enjolras scoffed, not wanting to believe Pontmercy's words.

"What do you mean?" Feuilly questioned quietly.

But now it was Joly to answer the question.

"That's an actual bullet in her shoulder."

Silence, not even a single gasp. Joly finished the feared thought for them.

"They're playing to kill."

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**OH NO! All the conflicts! Please leave a review/comment or follow/fav**

**Until next time lovelies!**


	7. Realization

**Lovelies! Happy Bastille Day! Here is my present to you! A new chapter! I know it's really short and I'm apologizing in advance for the ending (it just kinda happened...) But I hope you enjoy! **

**Warning: Cliffs...**

**Disclaimer: Nope...**

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_Chapter 7: Realization _

_"They're playing to kill."_

Valjean staggered back from the scene crossing himself. The girl writhing in pain, despite what her child self had done to his daughter, was practically a daughter to him now. Moving back as not to be in the young medical student's way he sought the blonde haired leader, who'd also staggered back in shock.

"Mousier," that caught the boy's attention.

"Enjolras." He choked out, clearly this girl was important to him as well.

"Enjolras, may I speak with the spy?"

The boy's eyebrows quirked in confusion, but he nodded his head absentmindedly, turning his attention back to the tragic scene.

"Someone has to carry her into the Wine shop, the street's surface isn't a safe place to toil with an open wound." Joly commanded, wiping his perspired brow.

"Joly, I can't, she can't." Combeferre was stumbling over his words, his fragile voice thick with tears as his eyes dashed frantically between his friend and his love.

"Ferre," The pre-medic placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "The bleeding has stopped and the bullet passed through her shoulder, I simply need a safer surface to stitch her up, she will pull through mon ami."

"I can carry her into the wine shop," Valjean stepped forward, gaining the attention of most of the young men gathered around the girl.

"M. Valjean?" Marius squeaked, suddenly very pale.

Valjean tried his best to hold back his chuckle as he moved forward to gently lift the girl's frame from her boyfriend's arms.

He moved with slow steps, every eye beating into his back as he turned into the wine shop, not even sparing Javert, who was sufficiently tied to a post, a glance as he gently placed the poor girl on the table, gaining a soft groan and scrunch of discomfort.

He carefully pushed pieces of sweat-drenched locks from the young girl's face, looking down, studying the girl's stressed features; he let out a sad sigh. Even though his own unpredictable life, he had not seen and endured half as much as this girl had in half the time.

"You will be alright my dear, just breath and try and rest, I believe your friend Joly is going to close up your wound."

Éponine looked at him through hazy eyes, her mind already dulling her senses to help cope with the pain.

"Henri?" She slurred, wanting nothing more than her beautiful bespecelled lover to wrap her into his arms.

"He will come soon, but rest." He whispered, once again brushing hair back from her face. The girl, finally succumbing to exhaustion, nodded weakly before letting her eyelids seal themselves for the night.

Valjean moved back from the table once he knew she was settled. Once the medical student and the boyfriend had come back into the main room to tend to the now sleeping girl, Valjean stole away to the cellar where Javert was being kept.

The heavy barred door was shut and the ancient lamp that hung above was turned off, revealing only a silhouette slumped against several wine crates. Valjean pushed the door open and flicked the light switch to reveal a bound Javert, a welt forming on his forehead from where Enjolras had hit him with a club he was originally trying to overpower students with.

The usually feared inspector looked up to see his visitor and immediately groaned.

"Valjean?" Javert could not believe his misfortune.

"Did you intend for this to happen Javert? Killing innocents?" Valjean's voice was laced with the most venom Javert had ever detected in the kind man's tenor.

"What happened?" He asked dumbfounded.

"A girl was shot in the shoulder defending a comrade and brother who was nearly pierced through the heart. The Thénardier girl who has done no wrong to anyone except stand up to fight for what she believes in. And yet your men are ready to slaughter her without a second though!" Vajlean snapped, his kind eyes now slits.

Javert fell back to one of the crates as he took in the information. A girl was _shot? _Was she in danger? Was she going to die? Was this what the president was implying when he threatened to teach the students a lesson? But actually weaponry?

Then it clicked. Javert suddenly realized why the president insisted Javert spy on the students. The command was a ploy to remove him from a position of command. Had he been in charge of putting down this rebellion the very though of actual weaponry wouldn't have crossed his mind. Had any of his soldiers even considered bringing artillery, Javert would not hesitate to punish them.

Javert continued to gape like a fish as a processed the thought and Valjean's once furious demeanor softened.

"Did you know of this Javert?" Valjean asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence before Javert swallowed, then spoke.

"The president put me in this position so I could not prevent the use of weapons. I would never raise a gun to a student protestor, no matter the consequence." He spoke quietly, but with such conviction, Valjean had no choice but to believe him.

"We need to get these students out of here." Javert spoke desperately. "They are outnumbered and have no guns or any protective device to speak of save a crudely built wooden frame."

Valjean nodded. "I can try and speak to the leader. Talk some sense into the boy."

But both men were silenced when shouting was heard from outside.

"No! Gavroche come back!"

There was a frantic cry and Valjean rose to his feet instantly. Even Javert struggled against his bonds; he knew this child, would they harm a child?

They couldn't hear what the boy spoke, but the students pleaded with him to return.

"We don't need it Gav!"

"Just come back!"

Suddenly there were several shots fired, followed by one of the most horrific sounds either man had heard.

"GAVROCHE NO!"

**I know... I know... I'm horrible... **

**I'm not the biggest fan of how this turned out, but I'd love to hear from you guys! PLEASE reviews make my day and make me write faster!**

**Happy Bastille Day lovelies! Until next time! **


	8. Change of Heart

**Hello my lovelies! I know, it's been a while (and on a cliffee too!) Anyhoo, here's the next chapter and this one's got Javert goin a little OOC, but this is a new Javert i hope you guys like ;) ALSO! I know it's been FOREVER since Amber's been updated, little writer's block. Reader question: would you lot be ok with a chapter before the wedding, a fun little filler? lk a bachalor/bacharolette party or night before somethin? PM or review me an answer! **

**And PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT/REVIEW! I write faster with 'em!**

**Warning: Fowl language and character change and development! **

**Disclaimer: Javert's OOC b/c he's not mine! He's ol' Victor's. Everyone is! **

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_Chapter 8: Change of Heart_

_"GAVROCHE NO!" _

Neither man could move, the cry of anguish seemed to freeze any action their bodies could render, rendering them quite useless. Valjean gaped like a fish as Javert cursed and prayed, straining to see into the makeshift hospital against his bonds.

"Joly! JOLY! HELP! PLEASE!" The once jovial curly haired young man cried, tears tarnishing his handsome face, a small crumpled form cradled in his shaking arms.

Shaking his head slightly to knock some sense into his fuddled mind, Valjean left Javert, who was demanding to know what happened, the strain of rope against creaking wood almost unbearable, behind.

"What happened?" The older man questioned, rounding the closest occupied table that now supported the quivering form of the young boy who so bravely and valiantly stood by his heroes to fight for a cause he could not yet understand in full. Tears magnified the child's large blue eyes as he moaned and whimpered in a very 'un-Gavroche' like fashion, but he was beyond caring what anyone would think, the pain of a piece of lead tearing through your side clouding any sense of pride. Though as the boys surrounded the table, all clutching each other, holding nervous breath and letting up forgotten prayers, none would chastise the child, the _six-year-old_ child for crying.

"What happened?" Valjean brought forth once more, hoping the question would distract the many eyes swarming the young physician who was nervous and upset enough desperately trying to quell and pain (and save the life.) of their youngest member.

The one who carried him in, Courfeyac, was nearly inconsolable and when addressed he attempted to answer, but clearly the thought of retelling the tale led him to relive it, leading him to another bout of tears.

Valjean's expectant eyes scanned the rest of the group, wanting an explanation.

"They shot at him." The boy closest to him whispered. He had curly gingery locks that sat a top his head much like an untamed bush and the smattering of freckles that dusted his pale features led Valjean to believe this young man was no older the eighteen, maybe nineteen.

"They _shot_ at him? But he's a child! For God Sakes was it target practice?" He cried, anger flooding his veins for the first time in a very long time.

"No," The tallest and bulkiest boy, who was standing protectively (though he too looked quite shaken standing around the young boy's hospital table.) behind the young ginger, spoke. "He went to the other side of the barricade to get ammunition some officers dropped during their retreat. We told him to come back, but the little snipe flashed us his cheeky smile and was off. We thought he was safe, I mean for the love of God he's a child. And they opened fired, like he was bloody prize game." Now tears sparkled in the boy's coffee eyes and the action was mirrored by every other student in the room. Silence, except for the whimpers of little Gavroche and Joly's soothing voice, fell over the room.

"You're all children." Javert scoffed from his 'cell' causing every eye to find their way to him.

"You're all children, these officers should never, _never_ raise a gun to a child, a student, _anyone _who dares to stand up for a peaceful protest in what they belive in." Javert looked up and met the leader's eyes, ones that were full of fury, passion, and, not to Javert's surprise, fear.

"You must let me go."

"Why?" The previously hysterical student rounded on the inspector. "Why should we let you go? It was under your orders and regime that Jehan was captured and is most probably being tortured. It's under your so great power that Éponine was shot as was Gavroche. How can we trust anything you do?" He raged, charging forward to plant a very eager trainer in the helpless man's ribs, but he was caught around the middle by the balding fellow.

"Courf, don't let your anger take over! It's not going to make anyone better if you beat the inspector." He tried to console the man, but Courfeyac's head shook furiously back and forth, causing his curls to fly in millions of directions.

"Let me go Bousset! It'll make me feel a hell of a lot better!" They continued to struggle, but suddenly, Javert's booming "SILENCE." Drowned the cramped space.

"Have you not noticed that everything that's happened to your friends has occurred whilst I was either working 'for' you or under your captivity? I've spent the better half of your university careers keeping you lot in check, have I ever once forced an officer to use brutality against you? This is not my doing, but if you release me back to my position on the other side I may be able to stop the fighting."

The struggling stopped and the eyes wavered between Javert and Enjolras, the latter seemed to be deep in thought.

Combeferre who was silent thought the whole ordeal, looked up from his position crouched between Éponine and Gavroche's beds, one hand clutching Gav's hand tightly, rubbing small circles into the back of little boy's hand, while the other brushed his love's hair away from her eyes.

"He's right Enj," he spoke and everyone jumped, as if they'd forgotten Combeferre was even present in the room.

More silence before Combeferre cleared his throat.

"Javert couldn'tve captured Jehan, but he did warn us that they had him the shots have been ordered and fired while he's been here. Someone else wants us dead Enj and their merciless." He muttered, his gaze falling on Gavroche who was now sleeping fitfully, pain still clear on his young face.

They all contemplated the guide's statement, also noticing Joly was now leaning against the wall, dabbing sweat from his brow with a ratty handkerchief.

"He's gonna be alright? Please tell me he's gonna be alright Jol!" Courfeyac cried, rushing forward to take Joly's shirt in two shaking hands.

This was supposedly not out of the ordinary, for Joly took the action in stride.

"The bullets,"

"_Bullets? _How many times did they shoot at this child?" Javert cried, now pulling so forcefully against the wood it groaned loudly in protest.

"Four shots, two hit target." Courfeyac spat.

"_Merde." _Javert breathed, falling back.

"Well, technically only one hit a mark, the second grazed his side. But the one in his gut didn't hit anything vital and was quite shallow, it seemed to have come from a strange angle. Besides losing quite some blood and being in immense pain, with the proper medical treatment he should pull through." The medic finished.

"We need to get him out of here!" Courfeyac cried.

Javert saw his window and seized the opportunity.

"I can take them to the closet hospital, both of them, give me a wagon of some sort, or I can carry them, they'll let me through, please! You know this can be of some help to you." He pleaded, still now losing the leader's eyes.

"Let him Enj, let him save them." Combeferre pleaded, new tears rising and falling down the sandy haired man's cheeks.

Valjean was shocked at Javert's sudden change of character, but then again hearing of an innocent child being fired at for what seemed like for fun, Valjean too would change character to ensure lives saved.

Finally Enjolras took in a breath.

"Bahorel, cut him loose." The fighter nodded and retrieved a knife from his pocket, slicing the ropes that once bound the man to the pole.

Rubbing his wrists, he rose to retrieve his charges, but a solid hand on his chest stopped him and he finally made direct eye contact with the stoic leader's icy blue eyes.

"These two mean very much to all of us in this room. Should any more harm come to them under your protection, or worse at your own hand, I will not hesitate to use your own men's idea of lesson teaching."

Javert audibly gulped, know this young man was capeable of being terrible if provoked.

"You have my word they will be safely delivered to the nearest hospital and that I will try with everything within my power to end the violence."

Enjolras regarded the inspector once more before nodding towards the patients.

Feuilly had grabbed a cart from the back room that was usually used to car large vats of wine to the back room and Combeferre and Joly covered the wood with the towels and blankets they had in the makeshift hospital and carefully placed the precious cargo side by side.

Joly stepped back respectively as Combeferre placed a tender kiss on Éponine's brow and Courfeyac did the same to Gavroche.

"Bring them to safety, please." The bespecled boy pleaded with the inspector.

"You have my word."

And with that the once rigid, feared, rule following Inspector Javert took off into the dusting dawn light wanting nothing more than to break every oath he once vowed, anything to end the bloodshed.

Anything to protect this group of students who were slowly becoming historic and highly important in the way Javert reviewed everything in his life.

The very though made him shudder, but still he marched on, praying to God on High to bring these children home.

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**Whatcha think? Weird Javert? LOVE to hear thoughts! **

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**Until next time Lovelies! **


	9. Peace amidst War

**LOVELIES! Where art thou lovelies? Few people are reviewing and it makes me sad :'( so i gave you a fast update, b/c i'm bein nice! This one's a little fluffy and hints at the upcoming E/R.. And I know Javert is WAY OOC and it was weird, but that's how i'm taking him... **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, its a poignant filler(ish) and slightly cheesy, but I hope you enjoy it! So.. PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT OR REVIEW! **

**Warning: Fluff**

**Disclaimer: Nope...**

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_Chapter 9: Peace amidst War_

_The very though made him shudder, but still he marched on, praying to God on High to bring these children home._

As the moon made her ascent and soon descent across the somber sky, the boys found their places scattered among the nooks and crevices their barricade had to offer.

Wedged between the broken piano and someone's university desk (he wouldn'tve been surprised if Courfeyac, in his excitement, had been the one to give this particular donation.), he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, releasing a breath he felt he'd held since the Inspector had disappeared with two members of their group, members who and fallen into harms way because of his cause.

Pulling his eyelids closer together, as if to shut out everything around him, Enjolras wanted to scream out loud, to walk over to the other side and personally beat every last officer who even thought of raising a gun to his friends, his family. Was he really as blind as people spoke of behind closed doors? Whispered behind his back? Was he leading his friends to slaughter? Not intentionally of course, for had he known the other side would be fully weaponized, he too would've armed his men.

Enjolras's eyes snapped open at the thought. Would, if they had the proper equipment, they fight back? Fight fire with fire? Would he be a reincanation of that forgotten student leader of the rebellions of the 1830s, bringing arms against a far more powerful force and knowing hours before it'd be his last day on earth? Was he the man willing to die for Patria?

He snapped his eyes shut once more, a far more fearful question coming forth in his mind. Was he a man willing to risk the lives of his friends for Patria?

His personal torment was ended by a soft cough near by, alerting him of someone's presence.

He opened his eyes to see Grantaire seated by him, his large bloodshot coffee eyes were full of worry and guilt and Enjolras had a feeling he knew the reason for the latter.

"Apollo? Are you all right? You've been blinking oddly for the last ten minutes." The drunk spoke quietly, it was this hushed tone that brought to Enjolras's attention that everyone else upon the wooden structure was either asleep or nearing sleep, the days events and the fear of tomorrow wearing the young men's energy.

Before he could answer, or truly comprehend what the cynic had asked him, he did a mental scan of the structure, making sure all of his men were accounted for. Joly was curled into Bousset's lap, the latter was leaning against the door to the Corinthe, or, as it had been earlier, the makeshift hospital. Bahorel was propped up against a stack of crates, his heavy eyelids drooping every once and a while, but he'd attempt to snap them open. Feuilly was not far from the fighter, thought from his perch on the top crate, he was fighting the sandman, in fact, (despite the uncomfortable position.) he seemed to welcome sleep like a worthy friend. Marius leaned against a large bed frame, a paper, most probably a love letter from Cosette, clutched lightly in his hands. Enjolras's heart clenched when he found his two closest friends, huddled close to each for comfort, each pining for the loss of their loved one. Courfeyac was resting his head in Combeferre's lap, his lean form still shaking slightly with dying sobs while Combeferre's head was leaned back and his usual thoughtful blue eyes were sealed behind their magnifiers, creases of worry marring his usual calm face.

Finally Enjolras's eyes found his last member expected at the barricade, the cynic. The cynic who's large fragile eyes were sopped with unspent tears and heavy with a longing for not only an answer to the question asked, but also to something more that Enjolras could not yet understand.

"Pollo?" Grantaire questioned once again, his voice even softer.

The leader sighed and hung his head, his halo like golden curls falling mortally around his weary face.

"Have I led you all to slaughter Taire? Am I a horrible leader?" He asked, cringing at how pathetic his voice sounded.

Grantaire looked affronted by the question, how could his Apollo feel guilt for something he had to guilt to feel for? He didn't know the opposition would have guns! And if he had, he wouldn't lead his friends into battle without protection, if at all!

"Enjolras look at me." The drunk commanded, trying to keep the multiple bottles of wine swimming in his system under control.

The leader for his sake looked surprised to hear such authority uttered by the drunk and he could not help but comply to the request.

Icy sapphire blue met watery warm brown and something stirred inside Grantaire enough for the cynic to reach an hand up and cup the back of Enjolras's neck, forcing the eye contact that much more.

"Enjolras listen to me." He began. "You have not led us into an suicide mission, we have are all here willingly to fight for a cause that's not only yours, but so many others as well. I don't think anyone at this barricade would ever think of abandoning you or that you forced them to be here. You are our leader Enjolras, if you lose faith, if your beacon of passion goes out, then we are ships lost a sea without a lighthouse to guide us home. Enjolras don't blame yourself for the evils of a president who should very well be fired. We might not have guns, but we have a structure that was built by people who believe in what you say, stand for what you say. Enj, you are the guiding force in seeing this cause survive. Yes, it's not only you fighting it, but if we didn't have a man like you at the helm, this whole operation would've grounded out eons ago. Don't lose faith mon ami, you're all we have to keep the flame alive."

Grantaire finished his little speech, but he could almost feel the remaining dregs of alcohol dissipate from his system, along with any confidence he once had brining himself up to speak with the golden leader.

It was the resounding silence that brought Grantaire's confidence down further, he dropped his hand from Enjolras's neck, broke the contact with him and turned to leave him alone, but a hand on his wrist pulled him back around.

"R, what is all of this, I thought you didn't believe in fighting for this cause." Enjolras questioned, his eyebrows long since missing within his haloed curls.

Grantaire couldn't help but smile shyly. "I might not believe in fighting for it, but I believe in you and that single belief has kept me coming back for years, so if you go out, then there'll be no one left for me to believe in."

Enjolras was silent for a moment, soaking in what Grantaire had told him. The fears of the earlier evening seemed to lessen and a small smile even played on the leader's lips.

Grantaire, noticing this, lifted his bottle slightly before breathing in to take up in an old drinking song they once sang together.

"_Drink with me, to days gone by." _

"Taire," Enjolras chided, but couldn't help but smile as he was pulled into the soothing melody.

_"Sing with me, the songs we knew." _

Combeferre, who'd been awake throughout the two men's conversation also managed to smile as he heard the old tune, the line he intoned bringing one particular girl to the forefront.

"_Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads."_

Courfeyac smiled from the guides lap.

"_Here's to pretty girls who went to our beds." _

Combeferre slapped him slightly over the head, but all four managed to sing,

"_Here's to them and here's to you." _

The other's turned their heads to hear their comrades sing of days of old. Nights at the Musain, curled around the couches, laughing over something long forgotten. Rainy days when the fire placed roared and Musichetta made the best espresso hot chocolate concoction anyone had ever experienced. Winter nights where they closed shop early and all gathered around the couches in the back curled and cuddled around blankets and each other, singing the song they all found so familiar, though swore Grantaire made up one night in a drunken haze.

They all knew the last verse, the one they'd added together,

"_Drink with me, to days gone by, to the life that sued to be. _

_At the shrine of friendship never say die. Let the wine of friendship never run dry_

_Here's to them, and here's to you." _

They finished and once more silence fell over the barricade, but somehow the tension in the air lessened and sleep came easier to the young men as they re-nuzzled into their spaces.

Grantaire made to escape back to his hole in the Corinth, but a single hand on his own stopped him.

He turned to find Enjolras's cooling blue eyes boring into his own.

"Can you stay up here with me?" He whispered, Grantaire's eyes widened comically. "To help me keep watch." The leader quickly amended, a blush as red as his jacket creeping onto his cheeks.

"Of course Apollo." Grantaire smiled, settling himself down next to the marble leader and letting his eyes drift lazily out to the seemingly quiet street.

As sleep began to take its tool on the young cynic, he found his head sinking onto the leader's shoulder. Nearly snapping awake to remove it he froze when he heard his Apollo chuckle slightly.

Testing his fate once more, he hovered his head over the blonde's shoulder whispering his very simple request.

"_Permit-tu?"_

He smiled and nuzzled onto the shoulder when he heard a soft and sleep laced.

"_Bien sur." _

And there on the Barricade, despite the imminent danger of the next day, the boys found their sleep and even, in the heat of the fight, the cynic and his Apollo found peace.

Valjean observed from his ever vigilant post in the Corinth and as he watched silently as the young leader's body sagged with sleep, he knelt to the floor and began his evening prayer.

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	10. Insanity

**LOVELIES! I know.. .it's been FAH too long! But here is chapter 10! (Not my finest, still expirimenting with Javert...) but what i'd really LOVE are some reviews! They do help the writer's block that much more!**

**WARNING: Nothing too bad in this chapter, just some swears**

**Disclaimer: Nope... **

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_Chapter 10: Insanity _

_Valjean observed from his ever-vigilant post in the Corinth and as he watched silently as the young leader's body sagged with sleep, he knelt to the floor and began his evening prayer. _

While sleep blessed the boys at the barricade, Javert maneuvered his way through the darkened Parisian streets with his cart. Every so often, when he came across a working street lamp, he would pause to check his charges, both wrapped gauze and a blanket, curled into each other as if by a sibling instinct, for both were unconscious from their pain when Javert took them from the sight of the only barricade.

As he turned down yet another narrow dismal alley he cursed aloud. How did he ever earn the reputation of the feared inspector if he didn't even know every inch of the city he swore to protect? Hell, he was almost positive he'd been down this alley three times and in the situation he was in, a fourth mistake could not be made. Just as he reached the silver lit pavement of a main road one of his charges awoke.

Blinking in her surroundings she squinted in the darkness, feeling the movement of the earth beneath her, the crude wood cushioning her, and the small body curled into her side.

The third is what prompted her to speak aloud.

"What happened? Where are you taking us?" She demanded, her voice raspy from underuse.

Javert nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the questions.

"Mamseille, I wasn't aware you were up."

"What happened? And how come Enjolras let you go? What did you do? Bring forth cannons to a wooden structure, how brave of you." She spat, but soon regret the action, for she cringed in pain.

Javert knew he deserved her words, but she also deserved an explanation, so instead of honoring her strikes with a comment, he told her what she needed to hear.

"Your brother was shot. I offered to take you both from the barricade and get you to a hospital on my way to talk some sense and force some command on the men who clearly are working on orders that were not my own."

The young woman was stunned into silence in the moments following Javert's harsh reintroduction into reality. In retrospect, Javert figured he should have eased the girl into the fact that her child brother was shot and that the rest of her friends were in danger as well. But Javert was shocked (impressed was the original thought, but he didn't think it was an appropriate thought for the situation.) at the girl's next statement.

"Are you trying to get to the San Michelle hospital?"

"I was trying to get you to the nearest hospital," he winced; he didn't want to admit it. "But I got slightly," hesitation. "Misguided."

If she hadn't been preoccupied about Gavroche and the reemerging pain in her shoulder, he was sure she would have laughed.

"What corner are we at?"

"Uh," He squinted in the dim light to read the street signs ahead. "Plumet and Rue de la Mare."

Silence, then directions.

"Go right on Plumet and once you hit the intersection at Victor go up there until you hit Hugo, then you turn there and San Michel should be on your left."

Javert nodded and continued through the darkened streets as instructed. Swiftly and silently the feared inspector weaved through the pitch streets until the heavenly light of the hospital poured into the otherwise hellish street. Javert actually let out an audible sigh of relief as he wheeled his charges into the emergency entrance.

Several hospital personnel looked up in shock at the man who had literally burst through the doors pushing a wheelbarrow supporting two seemingly injured people.

The senior physician who happened to be at the desk that very instant recognized the intruder to the silence at once.

"Inspector? What on earth has happened?" He demanded, moving around the desk to observe the two still figures in the crate. When he noticed the makeshift bandages wrapped around the young boy's middle and the clammy appearance of the young woman, he snapped his fingers, signaling for a gurney.

" Mabeauf! They were at the barricade, by the Corinth wine shop."

"That student barricade? Protesting the fund shortage? But I thought it was a peaceful protest? What on earth happened?" Dr. Mabeauf gawked, carefully lifting the young boy onto the first available gurney. At first glance the boy appeared to have been shot in the chest and the bandages and probably stitches underneath weren't doing much to staunch the new flow of blood.

"The officers there are working under someone else's orders." Javert growled, lifting Éponine onto the second gurney.

"But you're the commanding officer in all units, who could possibly usurp your command?" Mabeauf questioned, anger seeping his otherwise tranquil tenor as he further examined the young boy's wounds (He was quite impressed at the skill of the original stitcher for both patients, but knew that the boy needed far more care than crude black string to heal his ailing body.).

"I'm not positive, but I believe the president of the university has had enough of this group of student rabble rousers." Javert groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to wake him from this nightmare.

The doctor froze in his examination and nurses crossed themselves. There were no other words on the matter, no one knew how to respond to the Inspector's news that a school master would sentence his students to death.

"Ah, well, open up the ER stat! I need sutures, and a team!" Mabeauf yelled as he began to usher the gurneys into the operating theater. Before he could move the young woman to follow the child, Éponine reached out and clasped onto Javert's sleeve with a force so tight it was if he was her lifeline.

"Save them please." She whispered, new tears springing forth in her dark eyes. "Protect them, take them away from harm. Please Inspector, I know how much shit my family has dragged you through over the years and I wasn't the best person to know either, but please, these boys are all I have left."

Javert was frozen at her pleas, the young woman suddenly bringing forth a painful memory of another young woman, begging for him to not arrest her for she had a child. If he was still that man, a man he was not hours ago, he would have shaken off the injured girl's hand just as he had the young hooker. But something had emerged in Javert's stone heart and with conflicting hands he clasped hers and nodded.

"I will do everything in my power."

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Leaving the hospital and finding the barracks where the President of the university was observing his 'troops' was surprisingly easier than finding San Michel hospital in the first place.

Not bothering to wait for clearance, Javert stormed into the office, however the President appeared as though he had been expecting him.

"Inspector, I you have escaped the rebel forces." He asked, not removing his eyes from the letter he was penning.

"Rebel forces?" Javert gawked. "Forces? These students are armed only with powerful word and fierce loyalty to each other and their cause. I doubt a single one knows how to fire, let alone shoot a gun of any sort."

"Are you questioning your orders to protect the people of this city Inspector?" The president fired, finally looking up from his papers.

"Your orders to me to protect the people dissolved when officers, under your command, shot a six year old boy."

"He was collecting ammunition to refuel the rebellion's weaponry."

Javert was nearly ready to throttle the man in front of him.

"He was an child! An infant, doing only what he though his idols needed him to do and men under your command shot his for jest, for target practice!" He was almost yelling now.

"Was? So the men have lessened the threat?" The president asked nonchalantly as if bored with the conversation.

"He's at a hospital now being cared for." Javert growled. "I brought him and his sister there, both shot by these men." He gestured wildly to the officers who had now gathered around the rising argument. It was in this formation of the crowd that Javert noticed the young student tied crudely to a lamp post; The boy's long hair was strewn messily over his face and blood dripped from a deep gash over his eyebrow, a gash that only accented the dark purple bruise that had blossomed over the eye. The poor boy was shaking slightly and coughing every so often and when he looked up to hear the argument, Javert could see the tears tracks that stained the student's face.

"What did he do? This innocent student you tie to a post like a pig for slaughter."

"'E was truspassin on our territory." An officer piped up, smiling at his accomplishment of attacking an unarmed minor.

"They were within their orders Javert," the president now retorted, standing from his makeshift desk and moving to stand in front of Javert, blocking the young student from view.

"I thought it was your way to follow the law to the very end." The president sneered. "And yet, here you are, defending trouble makers who threaten not only the safety of the other students, but the safety of a people and a law you swore to protect. Javert, you are going against an oath you swore to God. Essentially, if you don't back down and let me give the orders to finish this little group once and for all, you are not only going against your country, but your oath with God."

The president had struck a chord. Javert's religion was the most important thing to him and he had sworn an oath to God to protect the people by all means necessary. Would he go against God? Against the law?

But then Éponine's face flashed back into view, reminding him so much of the young mother whom he had ignored all those years ago. The event of her death still wracked guilt in his core for he knew his and Valjean's deathbed side brawl drove the frail woman to her inevitable doom. But he would not fail this girl now, he would not let these students fall. He would keep his promise and though it may kill him, he would go against orders.

"Sir, this has gone far enough, by order of the city of Paris, I arrest you for your violence against students and demand you call off every solider stationed opposite the barricade."

The president was silent for a moment before raising his hand and backhanding the might Inspector Javert so forcefully he fell to the ground.

"Wrong choice Inspector. You have no control over this situation. Someone, tie him next to the rebel prisoner." The president snapped, stepping over the writing man.

Before returning to his desk and addressed the troop, thriving in the way Javert struggled against the two officers who restrained him.

"Gentlemen, tomorrow roll in the canons. This protest is ending and after our attack, no one will ever hear the people sing."

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**Ok, so not my strongest suit... But look! inner Javerian conflict! PLEASE PLEASE PLESAE leave a comment/review or follow fav, either one makes my day :) **

**And i promise, Amber will be back soon :) **

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	11. Blood of Men

**LOVELIES! I know! I'm terrible! I know! But don't hate me too much... B/c i'm coming back with a very long chapter! (i think at least...) I hope that this will be my longest silence (cross your fingers and pray with me.) and that not only will i continue and finish this story in the near future (I know! it's almost there!) But i will also update Amber (i know... it's been all summer, but it hasn't died I promise!) and possibly do a sequel to Amber w/ the 'next generation' of the Amis (would you guys like that?) **

**Alright, enough from me (who does still love you despite the dry spell...) here's chapter 11! **

**Warning: Bloodshed... and unknown outcomes**

**Disclaimer: Not even in my time away did i get any rights... at all... **

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_Chapter 11: Blood of men _

_"Gentlemen, tomorrow roll in the canons. This protest is ending and after our attack, no one will ever hear the people sing."_

The air around them was eerily quiet. There had been no word of Javert's mission as being successful, but, Combeferre prayed, there was also no word of it being unsuccessful either. That single thought allowed sleep to finally claim Combeferre's exhausted eyes the night previous.

The rattle of someone clambering down the barricade robbed the false sense of safety from him, well, the crash sounded closer to falling.

Shooting up from his cobble stone bed he rose to face Grantaire; the unusually sober student finding his way in the faint dawn to the entrance of the wine shop.

"Sorry I woke you Ferre." He mumbled, his sleep heavy coffee eyes not finding Combeferre's own bloodshot blue ones.

"I would've been up soon anyway." He reassured before looking back towards the top of the barricade where their fearless leader still slept, his blond curls over his (thankfully) peaceful sleep, even in the weak light they glowed.

"Thank you," He whispered, "for helping him find sleep." He nodded his head up to the sleeping sun god perched atop his masterpiece.

"S'nothing, Ferre, really, he'dve found sleep with or without me, I probably kept him up longer." The drunk sighed sadly, continuing to move towards the Corinth's beckoning door. Combeferre's arm stopped him though.

"R, you and I both know he would've attempted to stay up all night in a effort to watch for the returning guard, you helped him." Combeferre hesitated for a moment, before finishing his thought. "He does need you R, despite everything he puts up in defense, he does need you."

Grantaire's eyes widened for a moment, before his face collapsed into a sad smile. "Ferre, he needs me as much as he needs an apparent death warrant from the university's president. I'm as he says, here for the opportunity of free booze." He let out a hollow bark of cool laughter, but Combeferre signed.

"Grantaire, we both know you're here for more than that."

Grantaire was about to respond, but he simply shook his head. After a few moments of silence, he looked back up.

"Thank you Combeferre, but I must take my rightful place upon this barricade."

And with that, Grantaire disappeared into the darkened wine shop and Combeferre could only watched as his soon drowned silhouette foreshadowed the drunk's future.

Consumed in silence once more, Combeferre had only moments to breath in the still air that hung at his shoulders and constricted his heart with worry. Only moments before his ears were polluted with the terrible sound of metal boots on cobble, followed by what sounded like wooden wheels, burdened with weight and dragged along the pavement.

In moments, the barricade was wide awake, each student taking place behind odd bits of furniture, and Combeferre shuddered to realize the pieces were chosen based on how protective they could be.

He squinted in the sun's harsh rays to see Enjolras crouched behind a large cart wheel, one ear trained to the opening, his eyes scanning his friends.

"YOU AT THE BARRICADE, LISTEN UP! NO ONE IS COMING TO HELP YOU FIGHT. YOU ARE ALONE WITH NO ALLIES, NO FRIENDS! GIVE UP NOW OR WASTE YOUR LIVES FOR NOTHING!"

The voice was hard and loud, draining the color from each face as it rung mercilessly in their ears.

Enjolras looked back, pain in his eyes as he addressed his men, his brothers.

"Amis, we have no weapons and the people have not risen. I will not waste your lives, I will not let you die."

The barricade was silent, taking in Enjolras's words, but Bahorel let out a bark of laughter.

"Dear chief, you may lead us, but you can't control us, we rose, we'll stand beside you."

The others nodded along with Bahorel's statement. Cheers rose and fists beat the sky and Enjolras's lips turned upwards.

"They appear to have large weaponry." He warned weakly.

"We'll give 'em hell anyway." Bousset supplied.

Enjolras looked back to his center and his guide. Combeferre and Courfeyac glanced at each other, eyes swimming with fear, anticipation, and rebellion, nodded, and looked back towards their chief, smiling.

Enjolras took a deep breath and turned back towards the threat.

" YOUR THREATS MEAN NOTHING TO THE CAUSE! OTHERS WILL RISE TO TAKE OUR PLACE, UNTIL THE EARTH IS FREE!" He shouted back to the commander.

They were once again drowned in silence, but the peace was shattered by a single noun that would change their lives for what would seem like forever.

"CANONS!"

The large carts were awkwardly rolled forward, groaning under the immense weight of the outdated metal weapons.

"FIRE!"

The antiquated ball made contact with the defenseless wood, splintering the structure into a million pieces, and sending several students flying.

"FEUILLY!" Bahorel cried, watching the ginger student sail backwards.

"EVERYONE FIND COVER!" Enjolras screamed from his shattered perch, blood now drenching his shoulder where a particular shard found it's mark.

They were running back towards the only sanctuary they had left, but even as they slammed the pathetic doors, glass already shattered from the hits, shut, the guards began pouring in the crack.

Combeferre didn't make it to the closing doors, too busy aiding Joly to his feet after the young doctor caught his ankle on a broken bed frame. Too busy to notice the malicious grin of the young officer who almost gleefully smashed the hilt of his gun into the back of the young philosopher's skull.

Feeling darkness consume him he barely had time to pray that his Éponine was safe.

Enjolras watched in horror as his brothers fell. Fearful to move from his place huddled with Joly, and Courfeyac in the attic room of the Corinth, he didn't even know if they were alive or… he couldn't bear to finish the thought.

He'd seen Marius get nicked in the hip as he attempted to rebuild the wall. Bahorel charged at the man who shot Feuilly in the shoulder and Enjolras recoiled as he heard the gun go off as the fighter collided with his target. Bousset tripped on his way up and was handcuffed and dragged away (not that this was any better, but at least he knew Bousset was still breathing.). He hadn't seen Combeferre since the canon blast and he hadn't see Grantaire since before his eyes sealed for the what he was fearing was the last night sleep of his life.

Closing his eyes tightly for a moment, he prayed for the first time in years that not only for the ones he'd see fall and their safety, but that Grantaire was not here, not anywhere close to this disaster. Enjolras didn't know if he could bear another brother's blood on his hands.

Suddenly the harsh pounding of footsteps vibrated through the attic room. Without a second thought, Enjolras began pushing his two remaining companions to the hatch that led to the roof.

"Enj, what?" Courfeyac whispered desperately, tears springing to his eyes.

"You need to get out and find help, from somewhere, anywhere, please. Don't let our friends die."

"But Enj, what about you?" Joly whimpered, looking up to his leader with equally teary eyes.

Enjolras forced a weak smile.

"I'll be fine Joly, just please, your ankle is broken I believe and there's a hospital not far. Courfeyac, take Joly there and try to get paramedics or someone medically trained out here, please." He pleaded one more time, the sound of footsteps getting louder.

"Please!" He almost shouted, pulling down the hatch and letting the bitter morning light poison the darkness.

Courfeyac was frozen for a moment more, before nodding sadly and lifiting himself up the ladder before turning to help Joly. With one last look at his leader, Courfeyac blew a kiss.

"Give 'em hell Chief. Don't let them win this fight."

Enjolras almost laughed and sighed in relief as he saw Courfeyac and Joly disappear.

He barely had enough time to shut the hatch before the door splintered open.

"You!" An officer shouted.

"'E's the leader! 'E's the brat who caused all of this!"

Enjolras stood tall and looked his potential murderers dead in the eye.

"Yes. I led them, and I brought about this structure and I will fall with it, so do it, kill me, finish your job, but my death will only spark anger in the hearts of the people. It is my blood that will fuel the revolution that will bring you and our satanic president down!" He spoke, raising his voice at every note.

"Kill me! Then you will feel the wrath of the full revolution! VIVE LA REVOLUTION!" He cried, beating the dank air with his fist, that was when the first gun was fired.

Valjean was below dragging yet another wounded student to the alley after starting with Marius when he heard the gunshots. Eight he counted, he almost cringed when he felt the strange connection to the eight friends who followed their leader willingly. What truly frightened him was the crashing of glass and the body falling out the attic window.

Placing the student he was carrying as gently and as quickly as we could to the ground, he raced to the bottom of the window to catch the falling student, but fate had different plans.

Not only did the boy's foot catch with the windowsill, but his beloved red jacket also caught the fragmented glass and tore down his arm, relieving slowing his fall. When he stopped falling, to anyone far off, the red jacket looked to be blood dripping from his open wounds.

From below Valjean held baited breath as he scanned the dots of blood that stained the boy's shirt.

He released a shaky breath when he only counted four, and all seemed to be shoulder wounds, not that that was any less lethal, but at least the boy had a chance if Valjean could retrieve him in due time.

But, as he listened to the soldiers' cheers and victory shouts drowning the groans of the very much alive and very much in pain students above and in the alley, he wasn't sure when that chance would arrive, if it arrived at all.

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